


Finally! The Job is Done!

by desertwind777



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertwind777/pseuds/desertwind777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a major in the USAF was never the only job John Sheppard has ever had...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally! The Job is Done!

“What is it?” John called walking towards Ronon who was crouched near the outlying reaches of the village. As he walked he couldn’t help cursing his boss for his job again. It was supposed to be a breeze compared to his usual, but after six years he couldn’t help feeling just a little sick with it all. 

“Don’t know”, Ronon called back shrugging, “looks like a dead bug, but I’ve never seen it before.”

“Reeeaaallly,” John drawled, even as his sure steps faltered and slowed. God, he really hated bugs; and that was even before he was shipped to Pegasus where they constantly attempted to suck the life out of him.

Meh, and his CO thought this would be the place to recuperate. The bastard. 

Seriously, here he was in yet another freaky empty village trying to figure out the ultimate question of: ‘Where’d all the people go?’ 

Come on, ninety-five percent of the time it was ‘cause they were culled; doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Although, he had to admit that yes, he definitely had a higher chance of survival here then he’d had in the Spec Ops. Which really says something, considering he’d already technically died at least five times on this godforsaken job; not to mention all those close calls…

Which made him wonder, just what the hell were they doing here exactly? He knew why he was here, but why were they here? 

Sure they called themselves explorers, searching for the new and wondrous, yadda yadda; but really, what was the point? They disrupted the order, took technology that was either worthless, dangerous, or would be shelved for decades until it was deemed fit for the public (try never…), and just generally wrecked everything for the people they ‘explored’. 

Take the Wraith for example. Okay yeah, his fault there, but he really didn’t know better at the time. Which of course is the point here; he wrecked a system an entire galaxy lived by all in the name of exploration. Granted, it was a rescue mission, but no one would have needed to be rescued if people would just be good and stay in their own galaxies instead of exploring others’. 

Better yet? They’re own solar systems. Though, if his boss would have just okay’d the damn hunt, the Wraith problem would have been taken care of years ago. Sadly though, his job was to observe and see if their designated prey was lurking around. Not to create a new target for the Organization. Damn; and he had been so good about not destroying galaxies…

John peered over Ronon’s shoulder, “Huh, I guess this is the other five percent after all.” He couldn’t stop the grin forming on his face if his life depended on it.

“What?”, Ronon stared at him, but he ignored the question. As well as the incredulous stares McKay and Teyla threw at him as they walked up when he burst out laughing. 

“Oh great, he’s lost it”, McKay huffed throwing his hands in the air with his usual dramatic flair.

“John, are you all right?” Teyla asked him cautiously, concern lacing her tone.

He couldn’t help it, he hugged her twirling them both around a bit, “Oh, I am more than all right. Freedom! I am finally free from this God awful job!” As he swiftly set her down, he pointed toward the dead creature on the ground before them all. 

“Do any of you know what that is?” he gestured at it triumphantly, ignoring their bewildered looks. As far as he was concerned it was his ticket back into the Spec Ops; survival rate be damned.

“Uh, a dead bug thing?” McKay asked slightly mockingly, “Your head alright Sheppard? A few screws loose maybe?”

“That right there is what we at the Organization call a Face-Hugger,” John continued ignoring McKay; the moment was just too good for him to ruin it, “and it also so happens to be my ticket out of this pointless job. Basically? No more annoying space vamps, no more fruitless missions for supposedly superior technology,” McKay squawked a bit in protest,” and no more babysitting ‘explorers’”, he finished triumphantly. They were all staring at him aghast, but he really couldn’t care in the least.

“John…”, Teyla began, but he waved her off.

“Sorry Teyla, but I have a call to make”, John grinned as his ‘team’ all shared a look.

“With what exactly?”, McKay scathingly shot back, “Your radio? Because I’m pretty sure it isn’t compatible with crazy.” 

The poor guy was getting fidgety, like he always did when stressed. So John just grinned again and pulled out his communicator; pressing the send button. It really was more like a walky talky…

“Hey, HQ? This is Observation Officer John Sheppard, Id number: 16J357I000. Reporting contact with Designated Target: A1. Requesting instruction,” he stood slightly away from his team, excitement filling his every word. They in turn just stared at him with looks of concern and even sorrow, at least until HQ responded. Then they just looked shocked. 

“John? John that you?” a distinctly male voice emitted from the communicator. John gave a whoop of happiness.

“Yeah Tony, it’s me,” John couldn’t stop grinning, “and guess what? You owe me fifty bucks man.”

“Shit, no kidding,” Tony sighed, “Fucking Aliens are spreading everywhere. Can you believe this is the twelfth nest reported just this month? Though Pegasus Galaxy is new… Either way, hunting season is well and truly open universally at this point.”

“Are you actually complaining?” John rolled his eyes, “I thought you of all people would be excited. Which reminds me, can you ask Rogers about the Wraith for me man? They have to make the list now. Unless of course he wants to deal with freaky Alien Wraiths, then they are all his ‘cause I am tired of dealing with the suckers.”

“Funny, really man, funny,” Tony’s voice came out drily,” I’m assuming that was a joke? Anyway, since it escaped your notice, I answered the phone so to speak. Which means I’ve been fucking benched; had to have a fucking Alien baby yanked from my chest without all that nice fancy tech we got. In ‘nother words: yeah, I’m complaining. No fun for me for at least ‘nother two months. Fucking Christmas and my hunting license’s been revoked,” his voice came out bitter.

John snorted,” Yeah, well, I’ve been benched for six years man. So honestly? I do not care. Just get backup here asap. ‘Cause I am stuck here in sector 5 planet 239 with a bunch of cherries, and I would like to get back into the action for real before I meet our maker. Oh, and remember man: Rogers, Wraith; talk to him.”

A roaring sound, and sudden wind made everyone jump. Startled, John spun bringing his gun to bear only to stare shocked as a Predator cruiser landed in the town square. In the sudden quiet, Tony’s laughter could be heard emitting from the communicator still clutched tight in John’s hand.

“Backups already there my man,” his voice was filled with mirth,” Startle you a bit? You’ve been a little bit outta the loop for awhile. Wraith been blacklisted for a month now. That infighting you guys theorized? Yeah, wrong. Been cloaked Preds man. So there you go.”

“Huh, cool,” John responded faintly as an entire Spec Ops team poured from the open hatch of the ship led by two Predators. He vaguely noticed his team was about two steps from hysterics, but at that moment all he felt was supreme satisfaction. Everything was finally going his way. 

He smirked,” Let’s get this party started.”


End file.
